St*rfucker

The first thing they realised when they woke up was that they were in bed. They didn’t know whose bed, but they were in a bed and there was an arm wrapped around their side and the body next to them was naked. They had a feeling that they were naked too. They took a deep breath as they opened their eyes, but a wave of nausea hit them. They scrambled out of the bed to the toilet, which they eventually found after only one wrong turn, and got to the toilet just in time. It was as if someone had taken a hammer to their head the moment they moved, but that was a problem for after they finished throwing up. 

Someone held their hair back and they could only hope that it wasn’t some random person. Ideally it was Fandral, but they couldn’t remember what had happened the night before. They remembered arriving and sticking by Fandral’s side, but their memory got fuzzy after about the third drink. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” a voice said. Fandral. “Think you just had too much last night.”

They groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“You were fantastic last night, Lokes. Honestly, it was just like the old days,” he said. “Do you need some water?”

They nodded as they slowly got up. They’d finished brushing their teeth by the time Fandral appeared with a glass of water. They took slow sips, trying to ease how sick they felt. They must’ve been in their hotel room. At least they were with Fandral. They checked their phone, finding many, many messages from people at the party, mainly saying that they should go for coffee sometime or go for drinks - clearly something went right - a message from Tony which they didn’t even want to look at, and a message from Mobius. 

Meet you at eleven at the cafe on the corner by the hotel

It was quarter to eleven. Shit. They took some painkillers before they raced to get dressed, ignoring Fandral’s laughs. They got changed into the clothes they were in the night before - absolute walk of shame, but they didn’t say anything about it. They didn’t even think about why their clothes were on the floor. They trusted Fandral. They grabbed a pair of sunglasses and slipped them on, the small amount of light from behind the curtains was enough to make their headache worse. 

“I’ll see you later, baby,” Fandral said as they rushed out the door. 

They walked at a fast pace to the cafe, but made sure that they looked relaxed as they did. They didn’t want to look as if they were in a rush. They found Mobius sitting at an outside table in the cafe, two cups of coffee on the table waiting. They sat opposite him and did their best to seem okay. 

“Sorry I’m late,” they said. 

He raised a brow. “I’m surprised you’re not later, considering your night.”

“I think you know more about my night than I do.” They sighed. “I feel like shit.”

He chuckled. “I’m not surprised. Just be careful, Loki.”

“Yep. I know. Last night was just a fuck up. I think I forgot how much I can drink.” They shrugged. “It’s fine. I’m fine. I just need to wake up.”

“I thought the coffee would help.”

They smiled a little as they held the cup, warming their hands up with it. “Thank you.”

“So yesterday went well,” he said. 

They raised a brow. “It did?”

“Dior want to work with you again. You’ve got Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Saint Laurent all trying to get you. Yesterday went really well.” He smiled. “How do you feel about it?”

“Fucking surreal. It’s like my first walk all over again.” They chuckled tiredly. “It was great.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Verity’s getting a raise because she did fantastic getting you that. I think this year is going to be really busy for you. But I got a call from Versace last night.”

That could've been great or the end of their career. “Versace?”

He grinned. “You’re going to the Met.”

Their jaw dropped. The Met? They hadn’t gone in years. They’d only gone once before, but then they came out and no one would be found dead dressing them. Versace was inviting them? They didn’t think that that would ever happen. It was beyond surreal. 

“Holy shit.”

Mobius laughed. “Yeah. Thought that that would be good,” he replied. “Don’t kill me for this.”

They raised a brow. “What?”

“You’re going with Tony.”

Fuck. But that was okay. They were still going to the Met. They were going to be dressed by Versace. It would all be okay. It was going to be okay. They didn’t know how Fandral would take the news, but that was fine. They’d figure it out. 

“Yeah. That’s fine. What’s the plan?” They asked. 

“You’ll both have your fittings in Milan, just because everyone will be in the same place at the same time. We’re trying to finalise the time.”

They nodded. “Okay. That’s fine. Thank you, Mobius.”

He smiled. “You deserve this, Loki. I’m glad that things are finally going your way again.”

—————————————————————

They’d drunk text Tony. Of course they’d drunk texted Tony. Fuck. They’d finally opened the message from him and saw exactly what they’d sent. It wasn’t bad. Weirdly, it was better than what they’d have sent when sober, but they’d still text him. 

I’m so sorry for what I said earlier. I was such a fucking dick to you. I was hurt and I took it out on you, and I’m really, really sorry. Thank you for coming today. It really does mean the world to me. See you soon x

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. They shouldn’t have taken their phone. Tony didn’t reply for a couple of hours, despite being in the same timezone. They couldn’t blame him. 

It’s okay. I was a dick too. Just take care of yourself

That wasn’t awful. Definitely better than they were expecting. Then again, Tony probably knew that they were drunk. It was all over the headlines. 

Loki Laufeyson celebrates after a successful comeback

Back to their party animal nature? Inside shots of the party Loki Laufeyson attended after Paris Fashion Week success

Loki Laufeyson ditches sobriety for Paris afterparty

That last one wasn’t as nice. Sure, they made an effort to be completely sober, but they weren’t going to be the only sober person at that party. They were already considered a buzzkill for not doing drugs, they weren’t going to not drink either. 

They bounced their leg where they were sat in the car, trying to take deep breaths to calm themself. They really didn’t want to face Tony. Not after the previous day, not after that text and not with the news that they were going to the Met. They doubted that Tony would take it well. They were expecting to walk in on him cursing them out for it. 

They were let in with little to no fuss and headed straight to the dressing room. Natasha was tuning her bass as she sprawled across an armchair. Steve was on his phone, Clint was doing a jigsaw, and Tony was pacing. 

They were right about Tony not taking the Met well. 

“Why the fuck do I have to go to some fucking gala?” He asked. 

They raised a brow. “It’s the biggest fashion event in the world, and it’s a charity fundraiser.”

He chuckled bitterly. “What’s the money going to? The drugs to keep everyone going?”

“Stark, you won’t be the only musician there. Odds are there’ll be more musicians and actors there than models,” they replied. “And the money goes to the Met Museum. It’s a really good cause.”

He shook his head. “No one will want me there. I mean- look at me. I’m not a fashion guy.”

“No one gets in unless they’re approved by Anna Wintour. No one bats an eye at who goes because she’s so picky.” They sighed. “Anyway, we’re being dressed by Versace. You’ll look amazing.”

“Who the fuck are Versace?”

Loki blinked. They were going to a fashion event with someone who was absolutely clueless. “The theme seems like a bit of you. Punk: Chaos to Couture,” they said. “It’ll be fun.”

“I fucking hate this,” he muttered. “How hungover are you?”

They looked at him over the sunglasses. “I’m alive.”

“You’re a fucking mess.” He groaned. “Do you even remember phoning me last night?”

They raised a brow. “I texted you.”

“You phoned me as well,” he replied. “Just gone two.”

They furrowed their brows. “I don’t remember that.”

“Fandral took the phone from you,” he said. “I don’t like him.”

Loki had no memory of phoning Tony. At all. They got in a lot earlier than Fandral had implied as well. They looked up at Tony from where they were sitting, and Tony was staring right back at him. They couldn’t falter. 

“You don’t have to like him. Ideally you two never have to be in the same room as each other,” they said.

“I never want to meet the asshole in person.” He huffed. “He’s such a smug bastard. He’s so tall and dashing and his accent is fucking dreamy- he’s a dickhead.”

Natasha snorted. “You sound like you want to fuck him.”

Steve huffed. “I don’t recommend sleeping with models.”

“I saw Bucky yesterday,” Tony said. “He said he missed you.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Then he shouldn’t have dumped me.”

Clint grinned. “Loki, you looked close to Bucky last night.”

They groaned. “We all know I don’t remember anything that happened last night.”

Tony chuckled. “Yeah. I know that all too well.”

They rolled their eyes before they turned their attention to their phone. They went through their call history, and Tony was right. There was an outgoing call for four minutes at five past two. They had phoned Tony. They just needed to find out what they said. They couldn’t remember anything. They kept seeing photos on their feed where they were posing with others, but they didn’t remember meeting half of the people. There was one of them with Bucky, so Clint wasn’t wrong. They did remember meeting him, at least. 

Loki had to talk to Fandral. He'd have known what had happened. Most of it, anyway. He could let them know about what happened in the hotel, too. They trusted Fandral, but they just needed reassurance. They didn’t have the best track record of waking up in other people's beds naked and without any memory of ending up there. 

“Ready for the show, princess?” Tony asked. 

They looked at Tony, seeing that he was ready to head to stage. They got up and headed to the balcony, just like they always did. It was empty yet again, but they couldn’t complain about that. They grabbed another cup of water and hovered over the balcony railing. They were starting to learn the songs from the amount of their concerts they’d gone to. The way Tony danced around on the stage and interacted with the rest of the band - it was joyous to watch. Captivating. They could see the appeal in the band. In Tony. 

“I went to my first fashion show yesterday,” Tony said. “I mean, they’re boring as shit, but I went to support my partner who’s supported me so, so much. I got to see them break barriers in the modeling industry, and pave the way for queer models to come. I’m so beyond proud of them, and I’m so glad that they’re here tonight. I’m really proud to be able to call them my partner. They’re so kind, compassionate and they care so much about the impact they have on the world, and on young, especially young queer people. I’m so proud of them, for being themself, for standing tall despite everyone telling them to go fuck themself, and for giving it another shot yesterday. They’re fucking brilliant, and even though I’ve said all this I’ll still take the piss out of them for drunk calling me at two this morning and having no memory of it because they’re a fucking idiot.”

Fandral was going to kill them. 

And they were going to kill Tony. 

Tony glanced up at them on the balcony and they flipped him the middle finger, which only made Tony laugh. They sighed as the next song started. The moment Fandral heard what was said, it was going to be another argument. They knew that. They weren’t stupid. Fandral was never going to be happy with the situation, and there was nothing they could do to rectify it. The worst part of it was the fact that Fandral would never say anything like that to them, in public or in private. Their fake boyfriend was their biggest supporter, and they didn’t even get along 

Once the show was over they headed backstage. They went straight for the dressing room and ended up there before the band. They sat down in one of the arm chairs furthest away from the door and checked their phone, finding a text from Fandral. 

You and your boy toy are trending. Thought you’d be happy to know. 

Shit. 

Loki had to get back to the hotel. They had to sort it with Fandral sooner rather than later. They didn’t reply to the text. Anything they replied with would make things worse. They checked the time, seeing it was late anyway and just decided to head off without waiting for anyone. They headed out to the back and got in the car waiting for them. 

The drive felt longer than it should’ve. It was a twenty minute drive, but it felt like hours. Their leg kept bouncing as they waited and they kept checking their phone for more messages from Fandral, but there weren’t any. They ran up the stairs of the hotel once they arrived. They wanted to get to the eighth floor as fast as they could. They opened the door to the room and found Fandral packing his bag. 

“I’m sorry- I didn’t know he was going to say that- I didn’t know about any of that and I’m so sorry-”

“You’re not sorry,” Fandral said. “If you were sorry then you wouldn’t be taking the jobs you’re getting because you’re suddenly relevant again. You wouldn’t be taking jobs from people who’re actually serious about what they do. People who actually give a shit about our work. You just act like you’re so fucking above it, and why? What’s so good about you?”

Loki furrowed their brows as they processed Fandral’s words. He wouldn’t even look at them. He was so focused on packing his bag that he wouldn’t even look at them. He was just angry. He didn’t mean anything he said, because it came from a place of anger. That was what Loki was telling themself, anyway. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m getting jobs because of this. That's the whole point of it,” they replied. “But I’m serious about what I do. I give a shit about this. I don’t- I don’t know how I’m acting like I’m above it but I’m sorry that I am. Just- tell me what I can do to change-”

Fandral chuckled. “Please- that’s the biggest load of bullshit I’ve ever heard. You judge people for not being sober and working high when that’s literally what we all do- you act like you’re above it all but the truth is you don’t have to do it. You remember what this job is like? Working so fucking much that you can’t fucking function? No? Because you’re so fucking washed up that you barely get a job a month and it’s so laughable- the high and mighty nepo baby can’t get a fucking job, and when they do it’s because of their fucking boyfriend.”

They shook their head. “You’ve made your point.”

“Have I?” He asked. “You’re a fucking hypocrite. Remember when you did that interview where you shat on the way we work? Even down to the things we fucking eat- when was the last time you skipped a meal because you’re scared of putting on weight? You’re a fucking hypocrite. Such a fucking hypocrite. You look down on all of us when you’re still the fucking same.”

“Fandral, that’s enough.”

He shook his head. “The Loki I saw last night? The one at the party? That’s the one I fell in love with. The one who didn’t give a shit. The one who just had fun. You’re no fucking different to that person, deep down. I mean- it was like old times. You drank anything I gave you, you took I don’t even fucking know what, and we ended up in bed. It was so much fun, wasn’t it? But no, you won’t admit that sober because you’re above that. You’re too good for that.”

They hesitated. “What?”

“Yeah. Remember that when your boyfriend talks about how proud he is of you. Because you’re the exact fucking same as the rest of us.” He grabbed his bag. “I’m so glad he’s proud of you. That he sees you through rose-tinted glasses, because that won’t fucking last. I’ll see you at Milan.”

Loki didn’t even try to stop him when he walked out. They flinched when the door slammed shut, when Fandral finally left. That went a lot worse than they thought it would. The way Fandral spoke- it was full of hate. Not anger. It was hatred. How did their relationship fall apart so fast? 

They threw their phone at the wall without thinking about it. They took a deep breath as they looked to the ceiling. They weren’t going to cry. They were so sick of crying. They turned to the desk, finding the hotels phone perched neatly in the centre of it. They headed over and ordered a bottle of vodka through room service. They weren’t going to cry. Not anymore. 

They were sick of being sad, hopeless and miserable. It was about time they changed that.